Just the Little Things
by Heavenli24
Summary: Prequel to Counting the Minutes, post-MKAT, movie-compliant. For the VMHQs Milestone Follower 1000 Word Fic Challenge


**Title** : Just the Little Things

 **Pairing:** Logan/Veronica

 **Rating** : Teen

 **Summary:** Prequel to Counting the Minutes, post-MKAT, movie-compliant

 **Author's Notes:** For the VMHQs Milestone Follower 1000 Word Fic Challenge!

* * *

It's the little things that get to her.

It's when he leaves the toilet seat up for the umpteenth time, and never takes the trash out. It's when he leaves the cap off the toothpaste every single day, and no matter how quiet he tries to be, he always wakes her when he gets up for his morning run.

It's stupid, really. It's been four years, she should be used to his quirks by now… and yeah, okay, she is. Problem is, he's leaving for deployment again in two days, and all those habits she can normally tolerate are _really_ pissing her off.

"Do you _have_ to do that right there?" she asks, eyeing Logan, sprawled out on the living room floor, doing sit-ups. "You know, there's a perfectly good gym right upstairs."

She glances pointedly toward the ceiling of their two-storey beach house, but Logan is counting under his breath, gaze fixed on the large flat-screen TV. Veronica shakes her head, though her eyes linger on his bare back as he works out. Normally the sight of him half-naked and sweaty is enough to tempt her, but her frustrations have been building all day and she's _really_ not in the mood.

With a huff, she moves into the kitchen to prepare dinner and starts looking for the potato peeler, which has mysteriously gone missing.

 _Logan_. He was the last one to use it. _Where the fuck has he put it?_

"Geez, how hard is it to put something back where you found it?" she mutters under her breath as she gives up on the drawers and starts tugging open the cupboards.

"Everything okay?"

Veronica jumps at the sound of his voice, knocking her head on the cupboard door as she whips around.

"Ow. Shit." She rubs the side of her head, frowning. "Some warning next time?"

"Sorry." He shrugs apologetically.

He's casually leaning against the doorframe, towel slung around his neck, hair damp and sweat beading on his forehead. Veronica's eyes involuntarily rake over his toned torso and down to his Navy-issue gym shorts. She swallows, before remembering she's mad at him and frowns, lifting her gaze to his.

He's smirking at her, one eyebrow raised as he folds his arms over his chest, the stance accentuating his biceps . She narrows her eyes and shakes her head, forcing her attention from his impressive physique.

"Where's the potato peeler?" she demands. "I can't find it."

Logan blinks, then eases away from the doorframe, crossing the kitchen, running his hand gently over her sore scalp as he reaches around and slides the missing peeler from the top shelf.

"Here." He hands it to her.

"What the hell's it doing up there?" she asks. "It lives in the drawer."

"Sorry," he says, though he looks anything but. "Forgot."

That's the last straw.

"You _forgot_?"

She steps away from him, fury building. Her head is throbbing and she's just… had enough.

"You fucking forgot?" she repeats. "For Chrissakes, Logan, it's lived in that drawer for the past three years. How hard is it to remember?"

Logan frowns, looking affronted. "What crawled up your ass today?"

 _Just stay calm_ , she tells herself. _Don't let him get to you_.

It doesn't work.

"You. Okay? You're pissing me the hell off."

He looks resigned. "Okay, what have I done now?"

"Just… everything," she says sharply. "You _still_ haven't taken the trash out, even though I've asked you three times today; you're stinking up the living room with your sweat, you forgot to take Pony for a walk this morning, and you can't even remember where the fucking potato peeler goes!"

Logan's jaw twitches, his eyes narrowing, before he says tightly, "Oh, like you're Ms. Perfect? You leave your clothes everywhere, you never clean the bathroom, and your constant running commentary when we watch TV is so fucking annoying."

Veronica huffs. "Well, if that's how you feel, if I'm so fucking hard to live with, maybe we should just—"

"Just what, Veronica?" Logan turns to her, eyes flashing with anger… and something else she can't quite identify. "Go on."

"I don't fucking know, okay?" She throws her hands up in irritation.

Logan just studies her thoughtfully for a moment, his expression resolved as he steps towards her. Veronica's heart starts pounding in her chest. _This is it. The end. We're over._

"I do," he says softly, the anger gone. His eyes are dark, his gaze intense. "Marry me."

Veronica blinks, momentarily stunned.

"W-what?" She gives a nervous laugh. "You can't be serious."

He just lifts an eyebrow in challenge, and Veronica's eyes widen in realisation.

"Shit, you are." She starts shaking her head. "Logan… I… look, this isn't… I mean, you're half-naked and this is just… "

"Veronica…" He reaches for her, palms running down her arms. "I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I know you've never been the biggest fan of marriage, but this is us. We've survived death and heartbreak, nine years, and several long deployments. We can do this."

She can't quite comprehend it. _Logan Echolls is proposing… and I'm actually considering it._

"Marry me." He says again.

 _Yes_. It's on the tip of her tongue.

"Isn't there usually a ring involved at this point?" she says nervously.

He smiles, linking their fingers. "Sorry. It's upstairs. This wasn't quite how I'd planned it."

"You were planning this?" He's caught her completely off-guard.

He nods. "I was going to ask you tomorrow night."

Veronica blinks, tears springing to her eyes. _Seriously?_

"So, how about it, Mars?"

She looks up to find him looking at her with that penetrating gaze of his and her resolve crumbles.

"Okay." She nods. "Yes."

Logan lets out a relieved sigh, a wide smile spreading across his face. "Yes?"

Veronica nods again. "Yes. I'll marry you."

He lowers his head, lips meeting hers in a kiss that takes her breath away.

"Best day ever," he murmurs.

"I'm sorry for—"

"Me, too."


End file.
